


Something Good, Something Wicked

by FireflyFoxtrot



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love, Romance, Sex, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflyFoxtrot/pseuds/FireflyFoxtrot
Summary: Kala and Wolfgang finally share a night together in the flesh (written before I watched Season 2, hot damn)





	Something Good, Something Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic!

She had told Rajan she was leaving. She had packed. She had bought the ticket, and boarded the plane, and crammed into the taxi, walked up two flights in a haze and stood breathless in the hall waiting for Wolfgang to unlock and open the door. And now he was here, right in front of her. A flicker of surprise had come over his tired face when he opened the door; now his green eyes hid tenderness under a serious brow. But she thought she could perceive the hint of a smile behind the practiced mask of uncaring. She felt warmth.

"Hello," she squeaked.

"Hey." What an amazing thing. She didn't understand German, but she understood Wolfgang. He was still wary; she could feel the storm of emotions in his stomach. Hope. Shame. Lust. She wasn't sure how much explaining she had to do.

"I left Rajan." Even though Wolfgang had told her she had to marry him. Even though he'd told her--even though she'd seen--what kind of man he was. A murderer, a thief. A monster. She glanced down at his hands. She'd seen them fire a gun, punch and scratch and grip a steering wheel in the face of oblivion. They were heavy, scarred, bloody hands.

"I know," he said. His stare was almost painful; here, in person, their connection was absolutely electric.

"Do you know why?" Because those hands had also thrown snow, and cradled a karaoke microphone, and held her. Because he was not just his circumstances, not just his past. He had something good inside him like a pearl in an oyster, the soul of a little boy at a school recital calling to the dark corner of her heart and setting it aflame. It pulled her mind to his at countless inopportune moments, and it pulled her body to his now.

\---

"I'm afraid I do," he said, remembering that snowy day, their almost-intimacy. Now it was all Wolfgang could do not to pull the kiss out of her. Words were so slow compared to the sensate connection. He could feel all she was trying to put into words, but with Herculean effort he waited for her to tell him. She wasn't one of his booty calls or one of Volker's toys. He knew she was afraid and confused. He knew he scared her, and that sex meant something different to her than it did to him (then again, he'd never had sex with someone he cared about so much, and he'd never had sex with someone whose mind was psychically linked to his). He just watched as she stood there, trembling, for what seemed like an eternity. He took the time to focus on her face, to savor the thought of her being in Berlin, really in Berlin. She was somehow even more beautiful than he'd realized. And her hair smelled amazing.

"I... love you," she finally choked out. "I left Rajan because I love you."

He couldn't help it--incredulous laughter bubbled up and escaped his lips. Even though he knew, and he felt the same, he couldn't have guessed how good it would feel to hear her say it. A shadow came across her face and he shook his head. He caught her up n his arms and whispered, hardly believing he even knew how to say the words:

"I love you."

\---

Her ears filled with a roar as their lips crashed together. Somehow her bags were brought in, the door closed behind them, their clothes shed piece by piece and left on the floor, a trail made of expectations, armor, and pretenses leading to Wolfgang's stark bedroom. His bed stood like a shrine in the center.

They fell upon it, skin on skin slipping like seals. Their kisses fell like Berlin rain and Mumbai sunshine, steam rising.

She was intensely aware of her body in a way she had never been--in a way no human would ever experience. She felt the touch and the touching, the caress and the caressing. She felt her own skin through his fingertips, smooth but for goosebumps. Every touch electric, every breath synchronized. She felt beautiful, and golden, and pure, all the things he thought about her and all the ways he loved her enveloping her in light. A goddess with the power of redemption. And sexy--she went limp as she saw herself gasp at his touch.

\---

He held himself over her like a tiger above a glass figurine, empowered by her faith in him, worried by her fragility and naivete. He saw himself as she saw him, a rogue knight with a tragic past and a heart of gold. He reminded himself that this wasn't true, that he was not a good man, that he didn't deserve her, that she couldn't save him, but with every kiss she absolved him. Her touch burned off his shame.

He held her head up to kiss but he ached to fuck. And then to make love, to tangle his fingers in her dark curls and sob her name as they rocked back and forth in slow ecstasy. But again he waited; it had to be her. She had to choose. Her words to Rajan echoed in his head--she was not a field to be ploughed. She was a woman, her desire building, and as it coiled in her it knotted in him. Every inch taut. Every muscle ready.

He lowered her head to the pillow, daring to run his thumb across her jaw to her lips, then down, down past her throat and collarbone, looking into her eyes. She nodded imperceptibly and he grazed her breasts and stomach, following the curve of her hips to cup her ass gently.

\---

She shivered and pulled him closer, closer still, as if they were one thing. She could feel his cock spasm with a jolt of pleasure and surprise. Her heart raced. The hesitation she had felt with Rajan was a distant memory. She found herself confident in her need, proud in her body, high on the feeling of this selfish worship. The meeting of her thighs was slick.

"I'm ready," she whispered. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask if she was sure, and she kissed him hungrily. She bit his ear and breathed, "I'm sure. I want you. I told you. You are good."

\---

"And you are wicked," he said, plunging into her, a boat home to harbor. They cried out in harmony as the bedroom exploded into a prism of color. A guitar solo, TV static, fresh strawberries, a diamond, an epiphany. They found a pounding rhythm, sliding in and out of each other, devouring each other. He held on to her for dear life, overcome with the delicious fullness he could feel her feeling, surrendering to the animal instinct of thrust.

\---

She felt a bead of sweat roll off the tip of his nose and land between her breasts. Over the deep throbbing hum of his cock deep inside her she could discern twinkling details in slow motion--his eyelashes dusting over half-lidded eyes, a twitch in his forearm, a ringlet of her hair swept across her forehead, a glitter of stubble on his jaw, the sound of her breathing and moaning echoing off the bare walls. Flashes of memories--a cafe, her wedding, a bar, a swimming pool, the ocean--painted pink and hazy with this brush of sex, this at-last communion. All the fear, and shame, and heat, and waiting, and lips and teeth and grip and soft and curling toes. And then, oh God, oh science, oh fuck--they climaxed together. Towering sandcastles washed away by a wave. They lay for a moment in silence, still tangled and sheathed, as long as they could in a stolen moment where nothing existed but them. Then gingerly apart, with tender kisses and a few chuckles. He fell back onto the bed with a sigh, and pulled her to nestle up next to him. She craned her neck to see his face.

"Thank you," she said. He smiled, a real smile, and it was so beautiful she could cry.

And far flung across the world, Riley, Will, Nomi, Lito, Capheus, and Sun, felt an anxious swell, a bright light, and then peace.


End file.
